


Sickness

by trufflemores_Glee_fic



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sickfic, early klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores_Glee_fic/pseuds/trufflemores_Glee_fic
Summary: Blaine is late, so Kurt investigates.





	Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! After receiving multiple requests to repost my old Glee fics, I have created a second AO3 account to do so. I hope you can forgive me for flooding the Glee pages over the next few days. 
> 
> I also ask for kindness regarding the quality of these fics. Over on my main AO3 account (trufflemores), I have written over 150 Flash fics; end result, my current work is of a higher quality than these older pieces. But I know how beloved old fics can be, and I respect that something I consider sub-par can be someone else's favorite. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this fic and any others you choose to read. If you choose to do so, I would also be happy to have you on board 'The Flash' bandwagon as well.
> 
> Kick back, relax, and enjoy. You have been one of the greatest audiences I have ever had.
> 
> Affectionately yours,  
> trufflemores

Kurt and Blaine had been dating for almost a week when it happened. 

It didn't alarm Kurt immediately when he walked into his first class and Blaine wasn't there (perfectly primed for the day, smelling deliciously of a fresh shower and the two coffees cradled conspiratorially between his fingers), even if the subsequent lack of caffeine meant that his attention wandered.  It didn't even worry him when he didn't see Blaine in the bustle of students milling outside the classroom, looking a little harried but still holding two coffees and beaming (and apologetically explaining that he had tutoring on Wednesdays, or Thursdays, or whatever day of the week it happened to be that month).

Kurt made it through half the day and even lunch before he began to wonder about Blaine's whereabouts. 

When a quick text session with Nick elicited no clear answers, his curiosity morphed into concern.  Sending Blaine texts proved equally fruitless; there was no response at all on his end.  Now openly agitated at the thought that Blaine might be in trouble, it took every ounce of will power that Kurt possessed not to race up to his dorm and scour every inch of the area until he found him.  He ducked into his last class of the day mere seconds before the bell, forcing himself to remain calm enough to absorb the meat of the lecture before he drove himself crazy with thoughts of what might have imperiled his boyfriend.

He kept sending intermittent texts to Blaine every fifteen minutes or so, unable to help himself.  After forty-five harrowing minutes of silence, his phone buzzed with a response and he startled, belatedly covering the movement with a cough.  Thankfully, Mr. Jacobs didn't bat an eyelash in his direction, too absorbed in his own material, and Kurt checked his phone without further interruption.

Sorry.  Busy.  Everything's fine.

It wasn't like Blaine at all, brusque and inexplicable.  Kurt chafed with the desire to go to him and find out what was actually wrong for the remainder of the lecture, zipping out the door almost before he'd unsnagged his satchel from his seat once it was over.

It was almost two-thirty when he knocked on Blaine and Nathan's dorm room.  "Blaine?" he called, after five long seconds of unresponsive silence.  Nate was out of town -- as he often was, a junior touring colleges -- but Blaine was there, had to be there.  Kurt knocked again, called his name twice, and was about to send off another text asking about his whereabouts when the door slid open, revealing a thoroughly disheveled and slightly red-eyed Blaine Anderson.

Even in rumpled navy pajamas, he was still far more attractive than he had any right to be, but the miserable curve of his shoulders pushed every other thought from Kurt's mind.  "Oh, honey," Kurt crooned, one hand rising to cup his cheek as he rubbed a thumb over the burning skin, a soft noise of shared discomfort escaping his throat.  Blaine's eyelids seem to flutter shut of their own accord, one arm planted against the door to brace his weight as he leaned gratefully against Kurt's hold.  "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Kurt asked, ushering him back inside, catching him under the arms before he could fall when he stumbled.

"'m not sick," Blaine mumbled, face planted against Kurt's shoulder, hot even through the double fabric of his uniform.  Kurt hummed doubtfully as he held Blaine up, shutting the door behind them with his foot.  On instinct, it seemed, he slid a hand slowly up Blaine's spine, cupping the back of his neck as he sagged against him.

"Let's get you back in bed, hm?" Kurt said, resting his cheek against the ruffled curls at the top of Blaine's head as he stole a look at the mess of covers and sheets and missing pillows that was Blaine's bed.  Glancing over at the still tidy bed currently unoccupied by Blaine's roommate, Kurt shuffled him decisively over to it, nudging him until he would sit down.  Blaine was quiet, eyes shut in apparent pain as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Kurt ached to hold him before logic kicked in and he asked, "When's the last time you took any medicine?"

Blaine dropped his hand, looking startled, and blinked at him.  "Kurt," he said, sounding surprised.  "You're -- what are you doing here?"

Kurt sat beside him, looping an arm around his back -- Blaine sagged against him, whether voluntarily or not, Kurt couldn't tell -- and made another soft noise of sympathy.  "You weren't in any of your classes," he said, rubbing his side slowly.

"I'm sorry," Blaine rumbled.  His cheek was resting on Kurt's shoulder; Kurt reached up to tangle his fingers in the loose curls without further prompting.

"Don't be.  Everyone gets sick."

Blaine's eyelids drifted shut as he basked in the attention for a moment.  Happy to supply it, Kurt blinked in surprise when Blaine lurched to his feet abruptly, darting into the bathroom before Kurt could ask and snapping the door shut behind him.  Frozen in place, Kurt sprang into action when he heard him retching, tapping on the door twice before easing it open.

Blaine dry-heaved as Kurt crouched down beside him, hands clutching the rim of the bowl.  Kurt didn't know how long he knelt like that, shivering slightly even with Kurt's arm around him, leaning against him after a countless period of time with a silent hiccup.

"I've got you," Kurt murmured soothingly, rubbing his back in slow circles.  "You're okay.  Do you want to get up?"

Blaine nodded, struggling to his feet on shaky colt legs and moving to the sink to wash his hands and rinse his mouth before staggering off.  Kurt followed behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbled, steering him back to Nate's bed as he said, "I'll wash his covers later; let me fix your bed, okay?"

Blaine nodded in acquiescence, crawling on top of the covers and resting his cheek against them, eyes already shut as he groaned softly, almost inaudibly, and dragged one of Nate's pillows to his chest.

Once he was satisfied that Blaine was as comfortable as he could be, Kurt draped a blanket over him before setting to work on Blaine's bed, decisively crumpling the sheets into a pile and carrying them off to the laundry room.  Blaine was still dozing when he returned, emitting soft snores that made Kurt smile as he worked on tidying the rest of the room, tossing a pair of white shirts in the hamper and straightening the haphazard pile of books and papers on the desk.

He almost jumped out of his skin at a loud rumble of thunder outside the window, heart racing in surprise before he shook his head and trotted off to switch the laundry.

By the time he returned, Blaine was sitting up, blanket draped around his shoulders as he frowned at his stripped bed.  With his curls freed from their usual gel and his cheeks darkened with the faintest hint of stubble, he looked like a different person, hardly recognizable as the leader of the Warblers.  Then he caught sight of Kurt and, after a brief moment of torpid surprise, he straightened his shoulders and murmured, "Kurt?  I thought you had class." He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and winced, reaching up to rub at his forehead.  "How long have you been here?"

"Not long," Kurt assured, retrieving a damp washcloth from the bathroom and holding it against the back of his neck, feeling the tension relax from Blaine's shoulders.  "How are you feeling?"

"Somewhere between a freight train collision survivor and a zombie," Blaine admitted, still pinching the bridge of his nose.  Shivering when Kurt lifted the washcloth to press the cooler side against his neck, he added on a slightly shuddering breath, "You don't -- Kurt, you don't have to be here.  I don't want to get you sick."

"Blaine."  Kurt bumped shoulders with him gently, pulling the lukewarm washcloth away as he explained, "You're my boyfriend.  I'm not leaving you like this."

Blaine pouted at him.  "You're my boyfriend.  I don't want you to get sick."  He sniffed, letting out a soft groan as Kurt pressed the cloth to his cheek instead.

"Good?"

A slow nod.  "Mmhmm."

Kurt's lips quirked in a smile.  "Good."  Getting up after a minute to cool the lukewarm cloth and bringing it up to cup Blaine's cheek, he dabbed at his face as he listened to the rain patter against the window, eventually maneuvering Blaine until he was resting against the pillows with the cloth over his forehead.  "I'll be right back," he murmured.  Blaine didn't even twitch.

Five minutes later, Kurt had finished remaking Blaine's bed, fresh sheets and fluffed pillows waiting for him.  Blaine watched him with the blanket pulled up to his chin, somewhat misty-eyed but still clearly grateful as he grunted and pulled himself to his feet.

And oh, how worthwhile everything was when it made the tension melt from Blaine's features, his entire body relaxing against the mattress.  Kurt pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and set the washcloth aside, startling when he felt Blaine's hand on his wrist.  It wasn't a tight hold, and it barely lasted a second before Blaine let go as though burned, his eyes shut tight as the tips of his ears reddened.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Don't be," Kurt replied, carefully pulling off his shoes and sliding into the space beside him.  The stay couldn't have been louder, and the way that Blaine shuffled closer to him after a moment confirmed his suspicions.  Curling an arm around his waist, trying to convey in the slow brush of his fingertips against the small of his back that it was okay, Kurt stilled when he felt -- a ridge, ever so slight, beneath them.

He didn't move, convinced that Blaine knew that he'd felt the scar, but a soft snore was his only response, Blaine's forehead tucked against his shoulder.

Letting his hand curve around Blaine's back, knowing that he should find him some medicine for when he awoke, Kurt held him close instead, wondering, wondering.

He didn't even notice when he drifted off.  Sickness and all, there wasn't a place he would rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Please let me know if there are any weird coding errors in the fic! I did my best to weed them out before publication, but some will inevitably slip through the cracks.


End file.
